


Like sharp shards

by valerierosemberg



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes-centric, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Civil War (Marvel), Non-Graphic Violence, Other, POV Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 01:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valerierosemberg/pseuds/valerierosemberg
Summary: The forgetful aren't blessed; but remembering can be a curse indeed.





	Like sharp shards

"I remember all of them".

Vertigo; wind hitting his face painfully. Small frozen shards crash against the back of his neck and face. Someone's screaming; it doesn´t take long before the pain in his chest tells him it's him, desperate to reach something, someone.

St...

A jolt of oxygen interrupts the name about to surface, leaving it there, in the freezing prison he's forced out of before they strap him again; before they fill his head with colder thoughts: targets, missions, weapons, orders.

It's cold again, but now music fills his ears. The room is covered with mirrors; one of them shows a dark-clad figure, barely resembling a man; muzzled and greased hair almost covering his eyes, a stream of blood making its way across his face.

The shadow scares him, its wild appearance lacking only chains and shackles; he has to look away, a red flare catching his attention. She's small –or at least smaller than the thing beside her–, her chest is moving fast with each gasp for air, blood staining her lip and dripping from the bandages covering her hands; her green eyes are almost as wild as the shadow's, but the liquid coming from them clouds that look, and it mixes with the dirt on her purple cheek and bloody lip.

The door suddenly opens, two pairs of hands restrain each of them; in the corner of his eye, the shadow follows them.

Nat...

Another jolt of air, another word left in the air; the routine memory left behind.

His finger squeezes the trigger once, twice, thrice; on cue, like heavy dominoes, three bodies hit the ground.

Deafening screams, falling in deaf ears; his fist closes tightly and the screams stop.

A crash, a man...a mission; begging...recognition. It takes three blows to take that look off the gray-haired man. The woman cries out in pain, then she stops.

A blond man, blue eyes staring directly at him. Recognition.

Pain returns to his body. They try to force the mask on him again, but he can't breathe, he can't think; he can't hold his weapon up without a deafening sound –one he can't recognize– rippling through his head.

But he comes through, he has to.

"I remember".

The body hits the water.

Vertigo. He hasn't felt vertigo since...

It's fuzzy  whether it's a minute or a second that takes him to decide; he just knows he has to make sure the man is okay.

His body keeps moving, leading him away; the magnetic feeling is heavy on his feet as he leaves.

"...all of them".

Sometimes he understands  their words,  their begs; many times he can see the fear in their eyes. He screams, begs, all without making a  single  changi ng the shadow's resolve; he can feel his own hands acting against him, obeying only the calculated movements of the shackled animal  controlling him.

But this time there's no cold amnesia, no orders, no targets. Only names.

Steve, Natalia, Howard, Maria...

The list goes on, enough to fill page after page of his journals.

When the video starts, the cold dread spreads through his limbs. They could see it too this time, it was no memory, no  deceiving shadow only he could witness.

He keeps his guard up, he needs to protect them. No cold stare from his brown eyes can haunt him more than his own hand  wrapping around the woman's shaking throat.

Arm curled around his throat getting tighter by the second.

"Do you even remember them?"

Vertigo; faces, names,  horrifying gore filled images hit him as those cold shards that cut him piece by piece all those years ago.

"I remember all of them".

**Author's Note:**

> I apparently express my hype for the new movies by making myself sad.  
> This is actually one of the reasons why I was Team Cap on the movie.  
> And well, this could technically be a sequel to my previous work -one with Tony's pov from the camera footage-, but not necessarily.


End file.
